


The Storm and The Wolf

by arsenicarose



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: A Consensual Romance for Fenris, F/M, Fenris/Mage Romance, Mage Rights, Trashy Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 18:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11167296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenicarose/pseuds/arsenicarose
Summary: Fenris meets a mage who can connect with his lyrium, no effort required. He remembers it felt terrible with Danarius, but with her, it feels... good. How can he overcome his hatred of mages, and his fear of the tattoos, to discover what this connection means and how to use it?Originally posted to my fanfiction account, under the same username





	1. Mage Rights Rally

"Why did you bring me here, Hawke?" Fenris asked, arms crossed.

"So you can learn to not hate mages, or something," she replied.

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks," Anders chortled. He found the whole thing very amusing. 

Fenris was incredibly uncomfortable, and Anders felt right at home. It was perfect.

"I can learn not to hate mages in a different way. I don't want to go to a 'Plight of the Mages' rally." He looked around the room, frustrated and trapped. He stood in a well decorated mansion, Varric's on loan, and was surrounded by mages and mage supporters. Some were showing off the magic tricks and some were flirting. No one looked as out of place as him.

"Come on, it will be fun!" Anders teased.

Fenris swore under his breath, while Anders and Hawke led the brooding elf into the common room. He stuck to Hawke's side as much as possible. He didn't like being clingy, especially now that she was with the filthy abomination, but he hated this. He hated mages because of his former master. Danarius had given him a good idea of what mages could do.

Anders ran off, to go see some friends, and left Hawke and Fenris alone.

"So how did all these apostates get here?" Apostates came out like a foul swear.

Hawke chose to ignore it. "They escaped from circles all over the world. Some of them were saved by their parents, and allowed run away before the Templars could come for them."

"Some of these mages are untrained?" he asked, incredulously.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Yes, some of these images are untrained. You know I never went to a circle, right?"

"You are different."

The conversation halted there, and she looked away awkwardly. She shouldn't feel bad; he had left her, but she still pined for him on occasion. She assumed it would fade, since Anders was so much better for her. What was she thinking, dating a mage hater, anyway?

"I think I will join Anders," she murmured, and she slid away from him.

He felt out of place, and slunk to a corner, to hide from the excitement. He could not be confrontational here (like he wanted to be), he would lose.

He was scanning the room, back and forth, looking for danger, when he saw her. She was a beautiful elf, with long raven hair, and startling grey eyes. She was talking with someone passionately, gesticulating and laughing. Her smile lit him up, and he knew he had to meet her. 

But how? There was no way he could introduce himself, "Hello, my name's Fenris, I hate mages. How are you?"

And there was Hawke. He knew she would never take him back, and he didn't want her to, but he loved her still, as much as he hated loving a mage. He shook his head, this is disgusting. He is not a man of romance and pining, he is a man with a purpose and a hatred. He had no time for mage supporters, or worse, another mage.

Someone called attention to the room, and everyone silenced. A lead apostate started to make a speech, thanking Varric (who didn't have to come) for the mansion, and thanking everyone for coming. He started on 'free and equal for all,' and Fenris was done. He snuck out onto the balcony and looked out into the night.

"Bored?" an accented voice asked.

He turned and saw the woman from before. Up close, she was more enthralling, and he felt a draw to her he couldn't explain. "Yes, I hate speeches."

"Me too. It is ridiculous to tell a group of mages who all want to be free and equal how we should all be free and equal."

"I agree." He didn't want to go into what he thought about mages, so he stopped there.

"Who did you come with?" she asked.

"Oh, Hawke and… Anders."

"Ah, the famous mage rights couple. I'm Elysia, by the way. And you are?" She held out her hand, expectantly.

"Fenris." He took it, and her skin was warm and sent sparks through him. It shocked him, and he let go quickly. The feeling was surprising, but not unpleasant.

"Oh, I have heard of you too. You are against mage rights." Her smile cooled.

He could think of no reasons to explain that sounded logical, besides his whole life story. "I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do."  
"I do! All mages I have met have turned to blood magic or become abominations, save one! I have no reason to trust them," he growled.

She was not phased. "Mages can become evil, but so can others. No one blames warriors or rogues as a group for one killer. Mages are hated because they are feared. They are controlled because people want to feel safe."

"People have a good right to fear mages. Magic can destroy people."

"Yes, it can. So can swords. So can arrows. So can fists. So can ANY weapon. The only difference is a mage is born with it, and has no choice."

"It is terrible that they can't choose, but I still think they should be locked up where they belong." 

This night, combined with this woman's pestering, had left him fuming.

"Maybe you believe that because you don't want to be emasculated by their power, again."

His fury broke, and he lunged at this woman, sword out, pointed directly at her neck. "You think I  
can't kill mages? You think I am 'emasculated' by them? I have no fear for mages, not anymore."

Her eyes lit up with a light he could not identify, and his sword wavered. "Are you sure about that?" she asked. The gust of wind was unexpected, and it pushed him back several feet. It didn't hurt, but he was disoriented by it. He looked up to see her walking back into the party.

"Come back here!" he snarled.

She turned and faced him. "I don't want to fight you. Neither ending will be a happy one, and even the middle options will leave us bitter. Let us just take our leave."

"No, you attacked me, we are going to finish this!"

She rolled her eyes, but decided that he had in fact lunged at her. "Fine," she pulled out her staff, "after you."

He came at her fast, sword high. At the last minute, he ducked and swung low. She didn't expect that, and he hit her right in the hip. She grimaced, "Nice one."

He started swinging at her, again, but this time she parried every strike with her staff. Another small blast of wind pushed him away, but he wasn't disoriented this time, and came at her again. 

She centered herself and sent a lightning bolt at him, and that's when it all changed.

She pulled on her magic to send the bolt, and he started to glow, the lyrium in his skin working to help. The lyrium tattoos sang all over his body, giving him a pleasant feeling he couldn't describe. The magic caressed every scar, like the kiss of warm rain, and floated away toward her. While she was aiming, she felt the sudden swell of magic, and got distracting. She missed him, narrowly. Then, they just stood there, shocked.

"What did you do, apostate?" he growled, stunned. He couldn't admit how great that had felt, how right, because it was wrong. There was a connection here, he had felt it in the party, but he could never work with a mage.

She was as shocked as he was, "I have no idea. I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Sure you didn't, abomination," he spat, then turned on heel and stormed out of the party.

"Prick," she mumbled, and walked back inside.

Their encounter did not turn many heads, but Hawke saw Fenris leave in a huff, so she rushed over. "What happened?"

"Oh nothing, the mage hater just got a little frustrated and stormed off," Elysia replied.

"What happened, though?" Hawke pressed.

"We started arguing, we got in a fight, something weird happened, he couldn't handle it, he stormed off."

"Ah, of course. Are you alright, you're bleeding!"

"Oh, right." Elysia conjured a small healing spell and fixed the wound as Anders joined them.

"What did Fenris pull now? Did he attack a guest?" he asked, scornfully.

"Apparently," Hawke answered, "she's alright though."

"Well that's good, what's your name? I'm Anders, and this is Hawke."

"I'm Elysia, and it is nice to meet you in person. I have heard all about what you have done for the movement, and I am very grateful. When I escaped from the circle in Nevarra, I was worried I would never find home again, but here it is. Kirkwall of all places."

"We are glad to help," Hawke said.

Elysia smiled in return, and went back to the thick of the rally. She spoke with other mages and mage supporters for a while, but something nagged at her, tugging at the back of her brain. Where had that magic come from? He was no mage, so how did he give her magic? And how would she begin to find out? He wouldn't tell her, unless…

She walked over to Hawke and Anders. "Do you mind if I talk to him?"

"To Fenris? Why would you want to?" Anders asked.

"I have my reasons."

"Well, if you want to, I can't stop you, but I would advise against it," Hawke cautioned.

"Thanks." Elysia turned and headed out the front door.

She found Fenris pacing and mumbling to himself in Tevene. "Fenris?"

"What?" he growled. He looked like a trapped wolf, pacing and ready to attack.

"I realized something. I didn't ask why you hate mages. It seems like you have a reason, as opposed to just petty fear. I was just curious what that reason was."

"Maker's breath! Why don't you just let it be?"

"Because I want to know, and I am probably the only person you ever will meet who does."

"I am not going to just tell you my life story."

"I don't expect a life story, I just want a name, and who they were to you. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Fenris stops pacing, facing away from her. After a moment of silence, he says, "Danarius. He was my master. He was a mage, a terrible one, who used blood magic. There, now let me be?"

"If you like," she pauses, "Listen, I live in Lowtown, in the alienage. If you want to talk, or just brood near someone, I tend to be there. And I don't bite."

He didn't reply, and she went back inside.

Hawke strode over to her, and asked, "So what happened? Why did you go talk to him?"

"Because I realized his fear comes from pain, and I need to know him better to ask him some questions. By the way, do you know what those markings are?"

"They are lyrium, burned into his skin."

"I see. Interesting.


	2. The First of Many Visits

He didn't come to see her for weeks. She honestly didn't expect him to come at all, but he did.   
One afternoon, he just knocked at her door. "They are visiting Merril, and I can't stand her. Thought I would see your house. They don't know I am here, so don't tell them."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry, it's a mess, I was actually just cleaning."

He glided through the doorway and started cleaning with her. They worked in silence for about an hour. The party started to leave, so he did as well. He nodded solemnly as he left, and rejoined the party as they went back into Lowtown. She didn't question it, and was thankful for the help.

From then on, it was a sort of tradition. He would drop by when Hawke visited Merril, and they would just be near each other. He rarely said a word to her, and sometimes, when there was no more work to do, they would sit in silence, while she read and he contemplated voluntarily being   
in a mages house.

She didn't push him to hard. She knew that he was put off by her magic, and disturbed by her beliefs. He was probably just as curious about what happened as she was. Eventually, they would work up to it, but for now, they existed near each other in silence.

One day, he came over swearing and livid. The party went to Merril's house, and he glared as they left, shooting daggers with green eyes.

"What is it?" she asked, sitting in one of her chairs and repairing tears in her clothing.

"They moved in together! The abomination and Hawke!" He paced in tightly wound circles, and looked ready to punch something.

"Weren't they already together?"

He paused to glare at her and then continued pacing. "Yes they were 'together,' but it wasn't official. Then the mage told Hawke about a Templar who was using the rite of Tranquility on mages who didn't deserve it, and how this Templar planned to make all mages tranquil. They followed the Templar and Anders lost control, like he would, the abomination. So he ran. He tried to leave Hawke 'for her safety.' She wouldn't hear of it, he kissed her, and then they…" his ranting faltered and stopped. He gathered himself, and continued, "Anyway, he lives in Hawke's mansion now. He taunts me too. He tells me of his love for her and how he can't imagine why I left her. I swear, I could rip his heart out!"

He continues pacing in tight circles, anger being his only way to express the dejection he felt. She let him wear himself out, knowing he isn't a talker. After a while, he stopped, and glanced around the room aimlessly, before slumping into one of her chairs. She put down her sewing and studied him.

"Do you want to discuss it, or did you just need a good rant?"

"Why? Why did I leave her? I had the most amazing person in the world, and I lost her to the bane of my existence. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't I do it right?" His anger returned, and he stood to pace again. He was trying really hard not to break anything in her house, and pacing was all that helped.

"Well, why did you leave her? There must have been something to prompt you to do so."

"It was after we… lay together. I started remembering everything, from before, and it was too much. I had to do it on my own. I didn't expect her to wait for me, but I also didn't expect her to move on so quickly..."

"Remembering everything from before what?"

He stopped and looked at her. "Oh, I never told you, did I?"

"You only said his name and what he was to you."

"Danarius," he snarled. He sat back in the chair, and started his tale. He told her of waking up to excruciating pain, the lyrium in his skin, and being a slave. He told her of escape and of hiring Hawke. He briefly talks about their love affair, skimming over most of the details. He told her of not remembering anything before the pain, and of what he started to remember. He runs out of things to say and his life story dwindles, until he eventually just stops talking.

She didn't say anything for a time. She thought about it, all of it, rolled it around in her head, before she replied. "I had an idea that your past merited animosity to mages. You abhor us so, and that hurt me initially, as a mage, but I can't take it away from you. What I can do, is apologize. I am sorry magic was used on you in this way. I am sorry that mages have repeatedly torn you apart, and left you feeling like your insides were screaming. I wish I could heal it away."

He turned to her, in shock. He made eye contact with her, connecting to her startling storm grey, and sees the protection therein. In these months, where they just existed near each other, had she started to see something in him, something she could care for? He shakes his head, no way. "Thank you for your concern, and your apology. I have met none like you."  
She held out a hand for him, and he took it. The sparks danced up his skin, and for a moment everything felt right. He dropped her hand quickly. "Anytime," she said.

He left that day confused. When he saw Hawke, with Anders draped artfully around her, he felt a little less sad. Like he had someone.

The next time he visited, he couldn't sit with her in silence. He wanted to talk or to listen or something. Since the last visit, he just felt closer to her, so he asked about her story.

"Nothing exiting really," she replied.

"Well, I still want to hear it. Come now, I can't be the one who spills my feelings everywhere. I'm not even sure I have them," he teases.

She is shocked by that, Fenris, joking? She didn't mind it though, it was nice to see him smile.   
"Well, I was born in Nevarra. I was discovered to have magic at the age of six and I was taken to the mage tower. I lived there until I was 17. An incident occurred, and I escaped. It took me a long time to get here. I traveled by foot the whole time, and had to stop for a couple months at on occasion to get the funds to continue. When I got to Kirkwall, I managed to sell my abilities, like sewing, cooking, etc., to make a living. Basically anything I could do that wasn't being a mage, I did it for money." She didn't look at him for her whole story, and he could tell she was leaving a lot out.

"What was circle life like in Nevarra?" he asked.

"I don't really want to talk about that," she replied, curtly.

He was taken aback by that. She had never been short with him, except for the argument they had in the beginning. "Oh, sorry."

She looked apologetic. "No, sorry, I just… it wasn't a good time in my life. I would rather not dwell on it.

"I understand."


	3. Too Fast

Fenris visited as often as he could after that. Sometimes they would chat, sometimes they would argue, and sometimes they would they would sit in silence like before. He found her presence oddly comforting, and as long as he didn't dwell on her magehood, he didn't mind that. 

They grew accustomed to each other, and he often found himself looking for advice from her, and her from him. It worked well. He even got Isabella and Varric to help Elysia with her housing situation.

As time went on, they grew closer physically as well. The two chairs they sat on scooted closer and closer together, until they were touching. More and more often, they would brush against each other, and neither of them minded. Occasionally, Elysia would place a hand on Fenris' shoulder or leg, just to ground her. The first time, he jumped, after that, it became commonplace, that it felt odd when her hand wasn't gently resting on him somewhere. She lay down on his lap to read once, and then he lay down on her lap while she read. Sometimes she would stroke his hair while he lay there, and sometimes he would sing to her.

He had never been a tactile one, since all of what he had felt before was pain by touch. But her touch was soothing to him, like her smell, her face, and her existence. Part of him wanted to fight it, she still was a mage, but the rest of him thought he deserved some happiness after Hawke. And some non-sexual touching never hurt anyone, right?

One afternoon, when the sun was high over Kirkwall, and it streamed lazily into the front room through the grubby window, everything changed. When he came in, her hair was down. She always wore it up in tight buns, but today, it flowed free and long, cascading down to her hips.  
He didn't mention it though, and things progressed as usual. They started with them sitting in separate chairs, but then he started to crave her touch, so he gently rested his head on her lap. She stroked his hair, until she finished her book. With her book done, she put it down and looked into his deep green eyes.

"I need to get up," she said, nudging him lightly.

He lifted himself, and watched her as she stood and stretched. She turned to look at him, and they made eye contact again. Something seized her, some passion she couldn't resist any longer, so she leaned in and kissed him.

He was shocked by this gesture, but not unhappy. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her back. She ran a hand through his hair and one pulled his face into hers. He put a hand at the small of her back and in between her shoulders. Passion grew, and their hands started to go lower. He caressed her breasts, and she gently trailed down his torso, until she reached his…  
He jumped up, and she just caught herself before she hit the floor. "What?"

"I can't… I…" He looked confused and frustrated. He knew he liked her, that was evident by his mental and physical reactions, but she was still a mage, and he couldn't go through this again. He wasn't hurting over Hawke anymore, but that had taken a long time, and Elysia. What were the chances he would find someone like her again.

"It's okay. I am sorry if I pushed. If you are not ready, we don't have to."  
"I… I must go. I'm sure the party is leaving Merril's by now. I don't want them to… to uh see me… here." He rushed out the door.

She stood and went to follow him. "Fenris," she calls, "please?" But he was gone, and she was left alone.


	4. The Aftermath

A few weeks later, the Qunari lay siege to the city. Elysia wasn't safe in the alienage like she thought she would be. They came into the alienage to recruit disillusioned elves to their cause, and killed those who refused. She met Merril that night. The spunky elf was a mage too, and she was defending her home with such force. She was also a blood mage. This frustrated Elysia to no end, but she stood with Merril anyway. They made a good team, and she could tell Merril was impressed.

The Qunari didn't stop coming until late that night. Merril and Elysia stood stayed outside to defend the other elves until dawn, when news came of Hawke's fight with the Arishok. The Qunari pulled out of the city, but they did a lot of damage in before then. Including the murder of the Viscount. A lot changed after that night, but Fenris still didn't come back. She had hoped he would come to see if she was okay.

She didn't show her emotions often. The night he had left, she had shed a single tear before returning to her sewing. When he didn't come that night, she exploded. She had been up all night fighting, her magic and health were drained, and she was exhausted. The next day, she was still exhausted, since she did not sleep well. The fighting had turned so nasty, and her some of her neighbors died that night. Fenris had not come all night long, and she hated him for it. She hated the way everything was going. The mage’s fight had gone downhill, and people were disappearing. 

She ran out into the water by Lowtown, swam past the docks, and stormed through the gallows. She went past the giant entrance and out to the coast. 

She let herself go there, and tore apart anything she could. Lightning crashed from the sky. Boulder smashed into each other. Fire burned uselessly on the sands. Here, she wouldn't lose control on anything important, or anyone. She wouldn't be one of the mages he hated, no how much she hated him.

When she was left as a pile of despondency on the rocky floor, she heard voices. She gathered herself as quickly as possible and climbed up into the rocks off the path so she could hide. She didn't want anyone to see her like this.

"Woah, looks like the Qunari got frustrated on their way out," she heard Anders chortle.

"Yeah, must have been frustrated that we won and killed their Arishok," Hawke replied.

"The Qunari aren't like that, they are not attached to each other in the same way as humans are. This doesn't look like their work anyway," Fenris interjected.

"Whatever." Hawke and Anders continued forward, laughing and rejoicing in their victory.  
Fenris didn't immediately follow. He crouched and peered at the ground. His fingers lightly traced the scorch marks in the ground, and he whispered, "Elysia." He looked around, and she pressed herself into the rocks, willing him not to see her. Hawke called, and he jogged away to catch up.

She pulled herself away from the stone and gently eased her way down to the path. As she was leaving, she called a final bolt of lightning to her, and slammed it into the ground, before returning to Kirkwall.

When she got home, she realized why people had been looking at her funny in the streets. Her hair was bedraggled, and several random strands hung from a messy bun. She was still rather wet, even when she got back to her house, from her impromptu swim. Her robes were torn and falling apart. She was even bleeding in some places, though she hadn't noticed any pain. She was startled by her performance, and shocked by the aftermath. She needed to right herself.  
She drew some water for herself, and hurried back to her room. 

She tore off her tattered clothes and pulled her hair free; time for a bath. A small amount of magic to heal her cuts into scars, more for the collection, and she was in it, sinking into the cold water. She scrubbed away all evidence of her breakdown, and washed herself clean. When she was done, she felt much better, and much more prepared for her day. She brushed her hair into a shimmery, wet swath, braided it, and wrapped it into a tight knot. She put on some clean robes. She made herself return to normal.

Fenris didn't come to visit, even after the incident in the mountains. She guessed he couldn't handle people caring about him, physically or emotionally, since he left like he did. She wouldn't do anything for him, but she could have gone as slowly in the relationship as he needed. She could have be there for him.


	5. Fury and Fear

A year passed, and the laws got stricter. Templars started actively going after apostates like they hadn't before. One day, about a year after the Qunari attack, Fenris was in the Lowtown Market with Hawke, Varric, and the mage, when he saw a large group of Templars marching. His thoughts went immediately to Elysia; it looked like they were going to the alienage, but he dare not check on her. He didn't know what to do about her feelings for him and his feelings for her, and if he checked on her, they might consider that evidence that she was a mage.

So he waited with the party. As the day continued, he became more anxious and snappish, to where even Anders was concerned for him.

"What is it then, elf? You are brooding more than usual. I didn't even think that was possible," Varric asked.

"Leave it be, dwarf. It is nothing to concern yourself with."

"You know you can always talk to me," Varric added. His tone suggested joking, but his eyes held real concern.

"It's nothing!" he hissed. What is with everyone caring about him? It was so much easier when no one cared, when everyone left him alone, when he could pretend he was fine.

Hawke and Anders, though glued at the hip as usual, even looked worried, and Hawke demanded, "What is wrong then, Fenris? It has been a year since you stopped disappearing in the alienage and this whole time you have been so… frustrated this whole time. Something happened."

"Now is not a good time to suddenly start caring about my 'feelings.' I thought we had established that I don't have any." He walked away, cold as steel and stoic as he could muster, toward a weapon shop.

Hawke, Anders, and Varric were stunned. Fenris had never, in all the time since Hawke and he had broken up, been anything but calm about it. They had never heard him talk about it, or indicate that it had hurt him. That was so below the belt too, and he wasn't normally one to do that.

The rest of the trip was absolutely silent. Even Varric didn't try for witty banter. And Fenris, well, his stony glare was impeccable and off putting.

That night, when Hawke and Anders retired to their mansion, he didn't go home. He wandered through Lowtown, deserted at this time of night, and eventually ended up in the alienage. As he walked toward the tan door that she lived behind, he told himself he wasn't visiting her, he was just checking to make sure she wasn't harmed from the raid. He didn't miss her. He didn't miss her. Not at all.

He knocked lightly, and then with more force. There was no reply. She was usually up at this time of night. He knocked again, banging so hard the door shuddered, but there was no reply. He didn't want to break in, but he was starting to panic now, fearing her at the mercy of the Templars. The handle turned and the door swung open, and he knew she was gone. Much of her stuff had been taken out, and the rest had been torn apart. Loose items littered the floor and one of her chairs had been ripped open, with goose down feathers bleeding from it.  
He fell to his knees, and tried not to react. A scream was crawling up his throat and tears were beating at his eyes, but he refused to allow either through. He curled into the fetal position and held himself together, trying to keep calm. After a few minutes, he sat in the chair he had sat in for so many silent days, the chair he had abandoned from self-pity, the chair he had always secretly loved to sit in, and did nothing.

He woke up the next morning as the sunlight streamed in through the still open door. He was confused for a moment, but then as the scene around him slid into focus, it came back. He immediately stuffed his feelings away; he would not mourn her. He had made her so mad by not coming, he saw the damage she had done to the Wounded Coast; he didn't deserve to mourn her.

He returned to his mansion, a slow and steady walk with a blank face, and waited for when Hawke would eventually come for him. She just couldn't let go.

When she did arrive, ready to pick him up for the day's activities, she immediately saw it, but knew better than to say anything.

Over the next two years, he steadily withdrew further into himself. He rarely spoke and stopped going out besides when Hawke needed his help. Everyone was worried, but what could they do? He wouldn't talk about it, he even denied anything was wrong, so they eventually, begrudgingly, accepted this new Fenris. There were no other options.


End file.
